Runs in the Family
by babybluecas
Summary: Dean's new boyfriend, Cas, has been wary about him meeting his child, Claire. Dean gets it, they've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. What Dean doesn't know is that Cas might have more reasons for worry than just a premature attachment.


The fuel running out miles away from Lebanon, in the middle of nowhere, is entirely on Dean. His phone dying too, depriving him of any means of getting help, that's just his luck.

The chances that the very first — and only, for quite a while — door he knocks on trying to escape the outpour just happens to belong to his new boyfriend? Uncanny, to say the least.

But then, much stranger things have happened ever since he moved back to Kansas.

"What the hell are you doing here, Dean?"

Cas doesn't seem angry by the sudden visit. Rather anxious. He keeps the door ajar as he throws brief glances to the inside. Dean understood when Cas told him he doesn't want his little kid to meet him just yet. They've only been together for several weeks; no point of her getting attached before they're serious.

"Swear I had no idea you live here." Dean lifts his palms up in a placating gesture. "If I could just toss me your phone for a sec, I wouldn't even—"

"Come in." Cas makes a way. "I'm not letting you get pneumonia."

Surprised but thankful, Dean enters the warm hallway. The house isn't big, but comes with the perk of seclusion. What Dean knows about it is that it belonged to Cas's twin brother Jimmy. Cas's lived in it since Jimmy and his wife died in an accident.

He's taken care of their daughter, since, too.

Cas hands Dean his phone and steers him straight to the bathroom, so that Dean doesn't get more than a peek at a tiny blonde playing in the living room. Not until he's all dried and changed into Cas's clothes.

He's a little unsure of his next steps as he walks down the stairs towards the undecipherable but serious-sounding whispering.

"It's a great house, Cas," Dean announces himself before entering the living room. "Hi," he says, unsure, until Cas's approving nod. Encouraged, Dean squats to get to the five-year-old's level. "I'm Dean, a friend of your uncle."

The girl shoots him a toothy, by now means shy, smile. "I'm Claire," she says, politely shaking his hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Dean grins. "It's nice to meet you too, Claire. You have a beautiful name."

Claire shrugs. "My mom gave it to me," she says bluntly and is already pulling Dean by the hand towards what looks like a tea party. "Play with me!"

Cas prompts her about the manners, but Dean doesn't mind. He's sure got some time to kill before his brother glues himself off his fiancée and comes to get him, he might as well chat with Claire and Mr. Winkles while he's waiting and get the kid out of Cas's hair as he cooks.

Or, at least, tries to, between the worried glances he keeps casting their way. As if she was gonna explode or maybe stumble and break like an egg. Overprotective much? Best Dean can do is send him comforting glances and occasional thumbs up.

As far as children go, Claire's gotta be the cutest: with a storm of blonde locks bouncing around when she giggles and piercing stare of her radiant blue eyes that must run in the family. She's smart, loud and lively. Though she can't seem to commit to one game for the life of her. Half an hour later, the party's completely forgotten and has apparently drowned in the lava that the floor is now.

"Catch me!" Claire shouts, jumping off the couch straight into Dean's arms, trustful as if she's known him for ages.

Cas rushes into the room like a mother hen that he is. "What did I say about jumping?"

"She's fine," Dean assures him and only earns himself a stern glare. That's a play over, for sure.

"I'm fine!" Claire echoes, already climbing up the freshly grown Mount Everest of pillows. "Last time!"

She jumps before Dean can dissuade her, higher and stronger than before. Dean catches her, no problem, gives her a final twirl over his head.

There's a flutter and something white appears above her. Dean pulls her closer, turns to shield her from whatever's about to hit them. But there's nothing falling on his back, no harm comes their way, except for Cas's yell cut short and the shock on Claire's face.

For a moment, Dean's sure he's imagined the whole thing and his rapid movement was the cause of the commotion. But as he sets her down on her feet and steps aside to try and ease the tension, he blinks a few times to make sure he's not only now imagining things.

Claire looks just fine, if distressed, except for one minute detail. There is a pair of fluffy, white wings sprouting out of her back.

The time seems to have frozen as none of them dares to speak or move. Dean's eyes dart to Cas who seems as horrified as Dean must look. Except, it's Dean that he's staring at, not his bewinged niece. They're both waiting for his reaction.

And Dean? He's doing his very best not to freak out. There's nothing to freak out about, is there? It's just a pair of wings, on the back of a five-year-old girl. And they're swaying slightly as her whole body begins to shake.

"I'm, uh—" Dean makes sure his voice won't fail him. He takes a breath. "I'm no expert in kids, but this is…new."

"I can explain, Dean," Cas says the same time Claire bursts into tears and hides behind Cas's legs.

"I'm so sorry, uncle! I didn't mean to!" she cries.

Dean has to fight his every instinct not to lean in, try to calm her down. It'd probably not be the best idea right now. Instead, he sits on the couch, looks at Cas expectantly.

"Okay, I'd like that."

He's patient as Cas calms Claire down; which involves her wings retracting when her crying subsides, leaving no mark on her back or her shirt whatsoever.

"Jimmy discovered her wings when she was just a few weeks old," Cas begins, having sent Claire off to her room, "the tiniest sprouts dependent on her mood."

"That must have been—" Dean can imagine the shock of parents finding wings on their newborn.

"Not exactly. It's very rare but has happened in my ancestry."

"You're family's like, angels or something?" It's supposed to be a light joke, but Cas is very damn serious.

"We're human. But a legend says my predecessors served as vessels to angels when they came to earth."

Dean'd laugh if the circumstances were any different, if Cas's kid wasn't involved. And if he didn't have a proof of a seed of truth in the story. There's myriad of conditions that had been ascribed to the supernatural, after all. This must be one of them, though it's first Dean's heard of it.

But he might as well entertain it.

"Is it a gene?"

"If it is, it's recessive and very finicky," Cas replies quickly, but then he pauses, bites his lip, carefully choosing his next words. "Even in twins it can be unpredictable."

Dean doesn't miss the allusion. He raises an eyebrow.

"Twins?"

Cas's nod tells him all he needs to know. So, not that rare after all.

"Of course it wouldn't be the twin named James," Dean teases.

There's a tension in his body still as he's trying to wrap his mind around the concept of angel wings on humans. But he still manages a smirk.

Cas nods again, not a shade of a smile on his face.

"I'll understand if you don't want anything to do with us. But I'm begging you, Dean, don't tell anyone," he pleads. He's got a small child to protect. "People can't find out about her, think she's some sort of a—"

"Cas," Dean cuts in, but Cas doesn't listen.

"—a miracle. Or worse. She's no control yet. She's been through enough. You can't—"

"Cas!" Dean says firmer, reaching over to put his palms on Cas's shaking hands. "I won't tell a soul," he promises. "And I want to have everything to do with you."

Cas's eyes grow wide in surprise, whether at Dean's confession or at Dean's understanding, he doesn't know. But he eases, now, into Dean's touch and his company. And Dean knows from now on he's gonna do his damnedest to protect Claire like she's his own child.

"One thing, though," Dean tries later, once the atmosphere's relaxed enough. "Could I—?"

Cas, luckily, catches his drift. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Cas stands up in front of Dean. Like a strike of lightning, his wings spread out behind his back, huge and wide, filling half of the living room. They're magnificent. Breathtaking. Their sheer beauty brings tears into Dean's eyes.

"Castiel," Dean whispers like the very name has become sacred.

He's a freakin' angel, he is.

Dean might not be a believer, but in this moment he nearly falls to his knees.


End file.
